


is it stupid (that i love you)

by hellstrider



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bro - Freeform, Gentle Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mutual Pining, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Still Upside-Down and such, The Jersey Fic, just modern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21768979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellstrider/pseuds/hellstrider
Summary: could give it to me for real,could ask to give it to me forever,i'd say yes,
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove
Comments: 18
Kudos: 308





	is it stupid (that i love you)

**Author's Note:**

> more tumblr fics
> 
> title from gold (stupid love) by illenium, excision and shallows
> 
> tumblr: billyhargrovens

It’s been _two years,_

Two years of driving _too fast,_

Of patching up bloodied knuckles in a barely-used bathroom,

Of watching blue eyes find _other people,_

Of being _so_ confused it kinda makes Steve feel like he’s speaking a language _no one else_ can understand,

‘Cause he’s not normally _like this,_ y’know?

He’s been the playboy of Hawkins High since he set _foot_ through the double doors,

Been able to read when _The Moment Was Right_ for a _while,_

But this is - this is _different,_

This is _so fucking different,_

‘Cause this isn’t some _high school level hookup,_

Isn’t some kinda teenage fling that he’ll look back on and smile about, ‘cause _it was fun while it lasted, wasn’t it?_

This is -

Is his _best friend,_

His _best friend_ , who sleeps most nights on Steve’s couch ‘cause his dad kicks the shit outta him, who drives _too fast_ , who has perpetually bloodied knuckles, who’s blue eyes are always finding _other people,_

And Billy Hargrove is about as _Untouchable_ as a person can get, save for the gentle moments in Steve’s barely-used bathroom, when Steve patches up those bloody knuckles and _barely_ resists sweeping the angry tears that cut over golden cheeks away,

And this is his best friend,

But Steve’s never _felt_ like this before,

Like his heart’s existing _outside_ of his body,

And that kinda shit makes people _stupid_ , and _it is_ stupid, when Steve spies one of Billy’s basketball jerseys hanging outta his duffel bag in the Hawkins High locker rooms, 13 emblazoned on the front in blue letters, _HARGROVE_ on the back, and Steve’s _addled_ , absolutely _love-lost_ brain goes, ‘ _he won’t notice it’s missing,’_

It’s so fuckin’ _stupid,_

But _hey,_

He’s in love with the one person he _can’t fuckin’ lose_ , and Billy gets the _shit_ kicked outta him by his asshole dad and his asshole dad calls him _f -_

And,

Those blue eyes are always findin’ other people to trail after, even as Billy walks close enough to Steve their elbows keep brushin’, _and,_

Steve’s never _felt like this_ before, like he’s suddenly existing in a different language, like his heart’s wandering around outside his stupid body, like he’s walkin’ on a tightrope, and Billy’s _always_ \- always _there_ , even when he’s _not,_ always _there_ , ‘cause even when he’s not he’s _texting_ Steve, and he’s _Snapchatting_ Steve, so,

His stupid brain goes, ‘ _he won’t notice_ ’ and Steve steals Billy’s jersey and it hasn’t been _washed_ so it smells like musk and the stupidly expensive cologne Billy always reeks of, 

And it’s enough to make Steve get hard in his shorts, _and,_

See, 

He thinks,

_He won’t notice,_

And Billy _doesn’t,_

Not _until -_

 _“Yo_ , Harrington!”

And Steve’s stupid heart goes triple time and his stomach launches into his throat as soon as he hears that _goddamn voice,_

And then the front door slams shut and Steve can hear Billy taking the stairs two at a time as he packs his shit into his backpack, and he just has to suffer through a couple'a hours at the library before he and Billy are running D&D for the little rugrats, and,

Then Billy swings into the bedroom doorway, looking _stupidly_ gorgeous in that goddamn crimson shirt, and he’s eighteen goddamn years old and _still_ doesn’t know how buttons work, and his hair’s pulled back in a haphazard, messy ponytail, that single golden curl tumbling over his brow, and,

It’s just,

_Hook,_

_Line,_

_Sinker,_

“You ready, Bambi?” and his voice is _so unfair_ , and it’s unfair that Billy gets to _call him_ shit like that, and Steve’s _so fuckin’ gone_ , and he -

“Can’t find my chem notes, just gimme a sec,” Steve says, and his desk’s a _mess,_ even though Billy organized it like _, last week,_ but it’s only two months to graduation and Steve isn’t sure why he has to _give a shit,_ anymore, but Billy insists he _does,_

And Billy gives an exaggerated groan and it’s _also_ unfair, 'cause it's the kinda sound that shoots right, right down to Steve's abused dick, and then Billy's sauntering into the room and Steve can smell the plume of cinnamon-scented vape smoke Billy lets out, ‘cause he’s beyond addicted to that shit, despite how many times Steve’s tried to get him to _quit,_

And _see_ ,

He’d taken the jersey with a thought of ‘ _he won’t notice_ ,’ and Billy _hadn’t,_

Until -

_“Harrington,”_

And it’s -

Steve’s _never_ heard Billy’s voice sound like this, _ever_ , not in the two years they’ve been attached at the _hip_ , ever since Billy put his fist through Steve’s face and then Steve had found him at the Quarry with the pattern of his dad’s knuckles on his cheekbone, _and,_

He’s _never_ heard Billy’s voice sound like that, not even when a ‘gorgon had pinned Steve to a tree and Billy had let out a roar that shook the forest,

Because that had been _savage,_

And the way he sounds now is _savage_ , too,

But _it’s -_

Different,

And _everything_ about Billy Hargrove is _different,_

Which is why Steve’s been feelin’ like he’s lost in the mire of a language only _he_ can understand, why he’s been feelin’ like his heart’s walkin’ around outside his body, and they’re only eighteen, nineteen, but he knows this shit is the kinda _once-in-a-lifetime_ kinda crap, 

So when he turns from his desk to find Billy watching him with the - the _jersey_ in hand, Steve feels a little like the world’s _stopped_ , feels a little like his lungs’ve up and _vacated_ the premises, feels like he’s tripped into the Upside-Down, and maybe that would be for the _best_ , if the Upside-Down just, came and swallowed him _whole_ , because -

Billy’s the _one person_ he _can’t lose,_

But Billy’s blue eyes are always finding _other people,_

And it’s _20-fuckin’-19_ but his dad kicks the shit outta Billy and calls him a _f -_

And,

Billy steps slowly around Steve’s bed, and his blue eyes are intense on a good day, and being the _sole focus_ of ‘em is, it’s, it’s _so goddamn much_ , and he’s got the jersey in hand and Steve had jerked off into it last night after waking up hard from a dream where Billy was on his _knees_ in the locker room showers, that brutal mouth around _Steve’s -_

“Okay, _look,_ ” Steve starts, and he’s _panicking_ , and his heart’s outside his body and Billy’s the _one person_ he _can’t lose_ , “I just grabbed yours by _accident,_ Hargrove, it -”

But the _other thing_ about Billy _is_ \- is he can scent out _bullshit_ like a shark smelling blood in the water, especially when it’s pourin’ outta Steve’s stupid mouth, _and he_ \- he’s _moving_ like a goddamn _predator_ , sidling towards Steve with the kinda stare he gave Tommy before he beat the shit outta him one day in the high school parking lot,

And if Billy _needs to_ \- to _deck_ Steve to get over this, then he’ll _let him_ , ‘cause he’s taken a punch from Billy before, just _once,_ and he remembers it like a kiss, which is fucked up, _but_ ,

He’s nineteen and _stupid_ with the love that sits like a goddamn black hole in his chest, consuming everything else he's ever fuckin' known, and Billy’s _beautiful_ and _untouchable_ and those blue eyes are always finding _other people_ , but right now, _right now,_ they’re boring through Steve like he’s about to set lasers to _kill,_

 _“Accident_ , huh?” and he’s never heard Billy’s voice _sound_ like this before, and Steve _can’t_ \- can’t _read_ it, and then Billy’s _right_ , right there, and he’s gripping the jersey _tight_ , and it reeks like musk and cologne and cum, and Billy’s nostrils flare _and -_

“Don’t try to _bullshit_ me, Harrington,” and Steve can see the freckles on his nose, and he thinks he might be about to puke out his lungs, “you _know_ that _never works_ , not on _me_ , not when it’s _you_ ,” and,

Those blue eyes are _always_ finding _other people,_

But they bore through Steve now,

And,

He’s the _one person_ Steve _can’t lose,_

And he tries to snatch the damn thing outta Billy’s hand, ‘cause he’s _panicking_ and Billy’s not the only one who can grow spikes, but Billy holds on tight, _tight,_ and his nose furls and his white canine flashes and then Billy’s yanking on the fucking - _goddamn jersey,_ the jersey Steve’s _stupid brain_ had made him take, _and,_

Billy _yanks_ on the thing, yanks Steve forward, and Steve catches himself with a hand _on that_ \- on that _golden chest_ , hot and firm and _heavin_ ’, a bit, and Billy’s lookin’ some kinda _feral_ as his nostrils flare and those blue, blue eyes are immovable, scraping over Steve’s face like razors, _and,_

“Tell me it was an _accident,_ ” Billy murmurs, and _he sounds_ \- Jesus, he sounds almost like he’s gonna _growl_ , and it shoots _right_ down to _Steve’s_ \- “c’mon, Cherry-bomb, tell me, _say it,_ ”

And Steve - Steve _almost does._

He almost _does,_

‘Cause Billy’s _always_ lookin’ at _other people_ , and Steve _can’t lose him_ , and his heart’s outside his body, but now it’s starin’ at him like it’s _never_ seen anyone else, not _ever,_ and he - he was the _playboy_ of Hawkins High from the moment he set foot through those double doors, and _suddenly,_ suddenly the sheer weight of the _Moment_ slams into Steve, and,

He almost _ruins_ it all,

But there’s a little of _King Steve_ left in him yet, and they both got their fingers tangled up in the - the _fucking jersey_ , the jersey his brain told him to take, the jersey that _reeks_ of cologne and _cum_ , and he’s got a hand right, _right_ over that golden pendant Billy’s always wearing, is always fucking _chewin’_ on, and,

This is one’a those _once-in-a-lifetime_ kinda things,

And,

Billy’s lookin’ at him like he’s the _only thing_ those blue eyes have _ever_ wanted to see,

 _So_ ,

“You _got me_ , tiger. It _wasn’t_ ,” and _there’s_ the King, and Billy’s pupils blow wide, _wide_ , and Steve’s voice is _kinda_ \- is that kinda _playboy cocky_ , that kinda _Moment-Readin’_ kinda shit, “so _now what,_ Hargrove?” 

And,

Then Billy’s _stepping back_ , and Steve nearly _collapses_ when Billy _lets go_ of the jersey, steps _back_ -

 _But then_ ,

But then, Billy’s shrugging outta his leather jacket, is tossing it aside, and _Steve can_ \- can see the _hard line of his dick_ through his too-tight jeans, and Billy takes a pull from his vape _and then_ \- and then his hands move to his own belt as he says, “put it _on_ , Harrington,” _and,_

Everything goes -

_Red,_

And Steve’s _burning_ , burning like he's about to combust, and they’re supposed to be going to the library to _study_ , but suddenly _nothin’_ outside this goddamn bedroom exists, and Billy’s blue eyes are boring through Steve like they’ve been starved of him, and Steve’s lungs are in his _throat_ as he steps away from the desk and -

He strips outta his sweater,

And Billy’s gaze roves greedily over him, and Steve knows he’s _not_ \- not _built,_ not like Billy is, but Billy looks a little _wild_ as he lets out a plume of smoke and drags those starvin’ blue eyes over Steve, and then his lips curl into a wolfish grin, pierced tongue caught _right_ between his white teeth, and Steve’s feelin’ shaky as _fuck_ as he pulls the _musky_ , cologne-soaked, _cum-stained_ jersey on, _and,_

Billy lets out a _groan_ that rips _right_ through Steve’s gut, the kinda groan that Steve’s _dreamed_ of hearin’, and it’s _so much better_ than he coulda ever imagined, and Steve can’t - can’t stay _still_ , and Billy’s _too damn far away_ , and when he surges forwards, he catches Billy’s _aching,_ smoke-stained laugh between his teeth, and,

“We’re _so stupid,_ ” Steve says hotly, right against Billy’s tongue, and he tastes like the cinnamon vape shit and mint, like _Billy_ , and calloused hands slide up under the - the fucking _jersey_ , and now it’s _Steve’s_ turn to moan, and Billy ruts against him, hands curling _possessive_ and _tight_ around Steve’s waist, 

And,

“How long you wanted this?” Billy asks, shoving Steve towards the bed, shoving at him until his legs hit the edge and Steve fists his hands in that stupid crimson shirt, drags Billy right over him as Billy pushes him back to the sheets, and,

“You won’t like that answer, tiger,” 

And,

 _“Try me_ , Bambi,” 

And,

“Two years,” Steve confesses, voice _hurting,_ a little, and Billy’s brow furrows and his blue eyes look some kinda starvin’, and then Billy’s kissing him like he’s gonna drag Steve’s _soul_ right outta his bones with his _tongue,_ and Steve’s never been harder in his _life,_ never _wanted_ like this, ‘cause this is that _once-in-a-lifetime_ kinda shit,

And,

Billy drags a hand over the jersey, right over a barely-dried patch of cum, and he fists his hand in it, squeezes it tight, and his groan shoots right down to _Steve’s_ -

“Did you thinka me _fucking you_ into the sheets, baby?” Billy says, and Steve’s _never_ heard his voice sound like this, doesn’t _ever_ wanna hear it sound any other way _again;_ “thinka me when you touched yourself, when you came all over _my_ fuckin’ name? Did you _sob_ that name, Bambi?” and,

They’re supposed to be goin’ to the library but _nothin_ ’ outside of the realm of their tangled legs, their panting breaths, the fucking _jersey_ exists, and Steve could drown in those blue eyes, hopes he fuckin' does,

And,

“Do you _finger_ yourself, Cherry-bomb, finger yourself all nice and loose and pretend it’s _me?_ ” Billy murmurs, right, _right_ in Steve’s ear, and Steve’s hips strain harder than they ever have, and, “do you _dream_ about this cock _breakin’_ you open, Bambi? Wake up and cum _all_ over _my name?”_

 _“Jesus_ , fuck,” Steve pants, the words _punching_ outta him with real force, and then Billy’s pinning him _down,_ pinning him down with his hands wrapped _possessively_ around Steve’s wrists, and those blue eyes are lookin’ down at him like they’ve been _starved_ of him,

And maybe they _have been,_

And Steve thinks he might be dreamin’ _now,_

But then Billy’s kissing him again, kissing him with an edge of that _desperate_ kinda shit, and his tongue’s all but _fucking_ into Steve’s mouth, and Steve doesn’t _care_ if this is a dream or not, doesn’t _care_ if he’s in the goddamn _Upside-Down_ , so long as Billy _doesn’t stop_ tongue-fucking his _goddamn mouth_ , and,

 _“Tell me_ ,” Billy purrs, practically _moans,_ right against Steve’s panting lips, and Steve’s hips crest desperately up against Billy’s, _and he’s_ \- he’s _huge_ , Billy is, because _of course_ he is, of course he's hung like a god, and Steve's _so fuckin’ hard_ in his jeans, already wet as a goddamn bitch in heat, and Steve thinks his bones are about to _just_ , turn to _ribbon_ , “tell me you _dream_ about me, Bambi,”

And,

“I _do_ ,” Steve manages, as Billy’s mouth slides down over his throat, _and he’s_ \- he’s _shaking_ , a bit, _Billy is_ , vibrating with some kinda energy, and it’s kinda like the way he vibrates after a fight, but this is _all -_

All _need_ , all _want_ , and Steve slips his wrists outta Billy's possessive hold, slides his hands under the open collar of Billy’s shirt, traces the rivers of muscle over his _heaving_ ribs, and,

“You blew me in the showers,” Steve’s saying, words coaxed right out like a confession by Billy’s calloused, grasping, _devoted_ hands, and they are, they _are_ devoted, and they're touchin’ him like they’ve been clasped for two years, _prayin’_ just to feel the heat of his skin, and, “you looked _so good_ on your knees, tiger, took me down _so_ good,” _and,_

Billy _laughs_ , a sound that rips right down Steve’s spine ‘cause it’s that drives-too-fast, smokes-too-much, burns like a _firecracker_ kinda shit, and then Billy grinds down against Steve and drags his teeth over his throat, and if he had known - if he had _known -_

“Woulda gotten on my knees the day I met you, Bambi,” Billy says, and then his merciful, devoted, brutal hands are pulling Steve’s belt open and Steve lifts his hips as Billy drags his jeans down, teeth worrying a bruise on his throat, too high to hide with a collar, and Steve almost asks why the _fuck_ haven’t we been _doin’ this,_

But _then,_

“You scare the _shit_ outta me, Stevie,” and Billy’s voice sounds - sounds so _soft,_ and it’s _rare,_ rare he sounds like that, _this kinda soft,_ and before that he sounded a way Steve’s never heard before, and Billy Hargrove is that _once-in-a-lifetime_ kinda _different,_

“Why?” and maybe Steve asks it just to _hear it_ , ‘cause he knows, knows that it’s _2019_ but Billy’s dad is a _grade-A douchebag_ , and Steve knows the _only_ reason Billy’s still at his dad’s house is ‘cause he’s terrified it’ll be Max if it’s not him takin’ the hits, terrified it’ll be Susan, and Steve’s gut twists with that _choking_ kinda love,

‘Cause Billy’s got a real bad scar on his back from when he took a hit for Steve, the kinda hit Steve thought might be the last one he’d ever take, and Steve had spent a week in the hospital while Billy healed up, 

And,

Then Billy’s lookin’ down at him and Steve starts poppin’ the buttons on that crimson shirt, the few Billy managed to work out how to close, and everything is hot and _charged,_ dewy and _gentle_ , and the duality of it is makin' him _wet,_ so fuckin’ _wet,_ and then Billy’s kissing him, slow, _deep_ , and Steve shoves his shirt away from his golden shoulders, and he _aches_ , aches down, down in somethin’ he could call a soul, and,

 _“Billy_ ,” Steve starts, quiet-like, right against Billy’s lips, and Billy kicks outta his jeans, wedges his hips between Steve’s bare thighs, and it’s like being punched in the gut, when their cocks slide together, wet and _hot_ , “baby,” 

But,

“ ‘Cause it’s _stupid,_ Stevie,” Billy says, words rippin’ outta his chest, and Steve tangles his fingers through the golden chain around his neck, and the jersey has 13 on the front, HARGROVE on the back, reeks of cologne and Steve’s spunk, and Billy hitches Steve higher on the bed, breathes out against the front of his throat, and it kinda feels like Billy’s becomin’ somethin’ _else_ , a little, when he says,

“It’s _stupid_ , how much I love you,” and,

Steve’s _head_ hurts, 

And his heart _splits,_

And,

“It’d be stupid _not_ to love you, tiger,” Steve says, breath growing thorns, and Billy makes a sound like he’s about to _sob_ or maybe roar, and anything dewy or gentle up and whisks away, when Billy grips Steve’s ass hard enough to bruise and kisses him with teeth until Steve’s bottom lip _splits,_

And then Steve’s panting, “nightstand, _lube,_ Billy, _fuck,_ ” and he’s barely gettin’ the words out, and he’s in the cum-soaked, cologne-burnt, sweat-blessed fuckin’ jersey that’s got Billy’s name on it, and he’s got Billy all over him, and anything gentle has left the building, and Steve’s lip is bleeding and Billy laves his tongue over the cut, _moans_ like it’s the _best_ liquor he’s ever drank down, and,

Possessive, _protective_ heat flares through Steve’s gut when his fingertips light over the scar on Billy’s back, the one he got from takin’ a hit Steve thought might be the last one, and it’s a hit he took _for Steve_ , and his eyes burn as Billy pops the cap of the lube, the lube Steve uses to finger himself, fingers himself and pretends is that divine kinda touch,

And then Billy’s sliding a finger into him and he’s got his lips to Steve’s ear when he says, “Hargrove never looked so fuckin’ good until it was all over _you,_ Stevie,” and,

Steve’s _stupid in love_ , and it’d be stupid _not_ to love Billy Hargrove, and this is that _once-in-a-lifetime_ kinda shit, and -

It’s _two months_ to graduation,

And Steve’s outta this house as _soon_ as he walks across the stage,

And he’s gonna get a shitty little apartment,

And Billy says, _Hargrove never looked so fuckin’ good before it was all over you,_

And,

They’ve almost _died_ in each other’s arms before, the pair of ‘em, and the Upside-Down stole Billy for _two weeks_ , last summer, and Steve went _insane_ , and when Billy came out, he came out with a little of the Upside-Down _in_ him, but that darkness never seemed so beautiful until it was clenched between those lip-splittin’ teeth, 

_And,_

It took them _this fuckin’ long,_ because the fear of losing each other, of losing big time, that devastating, big time kinda loss, made ‘em into magnets turned the wrong way ‘round,

But a _stupid jersey_ with Billy’s name on it turned ‘em the right way ‘round,

And then Billy says _Hargrove never looked so fuckin’ good until it was all over you,_

And,

Steve’s gonna get a shitty little apartment and _he’s gonna -_

_Hargrove never looked so fuckin’ good,_

And,

~~It’s stupid,~~

(No, it _isn’t,_ )

When Steve says, Billy two fingers deep inside him, curlin’ ‘em over his prostate again and again, says, panting hard and clinging to those golden shoulders, 

“Could give it to me for _real_ ,” and Steve’s damn heart is climbing outta his body, coaxed _up_ , up by those lip-splittin’ teeth, “could ask to give it to me _forever,_ I’d say _yes_ ,” and,

They’ve almost _died_ in each other’s arms before,

And Steve doesn’t often let himself _think_ about that shit,

But he does _now,_

And he’s in Billy’s fuckin’ jersey and shoulda taken it so much _sooner,_

Taken this _fuckin’ name,_

Stolen it to -

To make it _gentle,_

Make it a name Billy wanted to _keep,_

And when Steve says, _could give it to me for real,_

_Forever,_

_I’d say yes,_

Billy pitches back, loomin’ over Steve with a _wild_ edge in his blue eyes, the kinda _wild_ that makes Steve feel like his skin’s _too tight_ , makes him feel like he’s about to take the first plummet on a roller-coaster without any iron bars keepin’ him locked down,

And maybe, to _everyone else_ , it would seem _stupid,_

But there’s a scar on Billy’s back from the hit he took for Steve, the hit that coulda been the last one, and Steve traces it as Billy’s nose furls and his fingers slowly withdraw from him,

But before Steve can whine or properly feel the sudden onslaught of fear that slams into him, the blunt, fat head of Billy’s dick is pressing into him instead, and Steve’s _barely open_ , but it’s the _finest fuckin’ pain_ , when Billy _pushes_ into him, pushes into him in one dragging, _burning_ pump of his hips,

When Billy licks at Steve’s split lip, the lip his teeth _bit o_ pen,

When Billy fists a hand in his hair, drags his head back,

And Steve’s _never_ moaned like this before, like he’s about to turn _inside-out_ , and Billy bites at his chin, and then a tear falls to Steve’s throat and Billy’s blue eyes - the eyes that kept turnin’ away, kept findin’ other people, ‘cause they were magnets turned the wrong way ‘round outta _fear_ \- are fulla _diamonds_ as he looks down at Steve like he’s been _starvin’_ , and,

Billy’s _all_ gold,

 _Drips_ gold from that wicked, dancing tongue,

When he says,

“No one else in the _world_ I’d give it to, Bambi,” and,

“Gonna have to save up for a ring,” and,

“Hope you can _wait,”_

And,

“Guess I’ll just _wear this_ until then,” Steve manages, _choking_ on the words, on the _love,_ on the fact that he can feel Billy in his fucking _throat,_ and then Billy’s fucking into him, fucking him proper, strong hands pushing Steve’s thighs back, _back_ , and the headboard hits the wall, and,

Steve clutches at the sheets over his head, and Billy presses his tear-soaked face against the jersey, _growls_ with it when he inhales the stench of Steve’s barely-dried spunk on the front, and,

He’s hitting _so deep_ Steve knows he’s gonna be able to feel him for a _week,_ and,

 _“Fuck,_ Bambi,” Billy moans, and his voice is as deep as the sea, sounds like the way it looks after a storm, and, “the _fuck_ was I doin’ _before you,_ you feel _so_ _good,_ baby, take me like you were _made to_ , fuck, _fuck -_ ” 

And,

 _“That’s it,_ tiger, _fuck,_ right there, _was_ made for you, love you _so much_ , loved you _so long,”_

And,

 _No one’s_ compared to this, and it’s almost as if Steve’s _never_ been touched _at all_ , now that he knows what it’s like to be loved and broken by these calloused, brutal, _devoted_ hands, hands that touch him like they’ve been _dead_ until they found the warmth of his skin, _and_ ,

Then Billy’s sitting back on his heels, is hauling Steve into his lap, and white heat _sears_ up Steve’s spine, ‘cause Billy’s sunk _so,_ so fucking deep inside him like this, so _impossibly_ deep, and Billy kisses him through a wrenching, aching groan, and a possessive, iron-strong arm slides around Steve’s waist, 

And one of those calloused, brutal, devoted hands splays over Steve’s jaw, drags him down for a kiss that’s all tongue, all _wet heat_ , all _desperate_ , jutting, _aching_ breaths swapped between their lungs, and Billy fucks up into Steve with harsh, snapping thrusts, and,

Steve’s _dripping_ pre, cock rubbing against Billy’s tight, _clenching_ stomach, and the pressure in his gut is so, _so_ fucking intense, so intense he could _sob_ with it, and Billy _grins_ , grins with his tongue between his teeth as he tips back, tips back and gentles his thrusts _just_ to look down at Steve’s dick,

And he slides a thumb up the thick vein pulsing on the underside and Steve thinks he’s gonna, just, _die,_

And _then,_

“Wanna _watch_ you jerk off, Bambi,” Billy breathes, possessive hand curving around the nape of Steve’s neck, and he’s rolling nice and _slow_ into Steve now, and they’re both shimmering with sweat, and Steve kinda wants to lick the beads of it offa Billy’s chest, “wanna watch you touch yourself like you do when you _dream_ about me, baby,”

And there’s _no way_ Steve’s gonna say _no,_

So he wraps a shaking hand around himself, has to bite into the cut on his lip to keep from cumming as soon as he does, and Billy laughs like he knows it, laughs and leans in to lick over Steve’s throat, clever fingers tweaking one of his nipples through the jersey, and Steve curses, _moans_ , fucks into his own fist as Billy fucks into _him_ , and,

 _“Never_ gonna wake up alone again,” Billy’s saying, and he’s - he’s watching, watching with savage, starvin’ eyes as Steve touches himself, “but you better _keep_ dreamin’ about me, Bambi, better wake up and bury that dream _right_ in me, you _hear_ me?” and,

 _“God_ , baby, you touch yourself _so sweet_ , you look _so fuckin’ good_ , bet that feels _so good,_ ” and,

“Is it _better_ than the dreams, baby, havin’ me fuckin’ you while you touch yourself?” 

And,

“You’re _always_ better than the dreams,” Steve groans, and Billy’s keepin’ him upright with one hand gripping his thigh hard enough to bruise, the other like a collar around the nape of Steve’s neck, “e-even when I couldn’t fucking touch you, you always were,” and,

Billy’s head tips back and he _groans_ , groans as his hips stutter, and he’s _so deep,_ keeps hittin’ Steve’s prostate like it's true north, and Steve’s panting like a _dog_ as he tries not to cum too fast, too soon, _but then -_

 _“C’mon_ , Bambi,” and Billy’s voice sounds like he’s about to break into a _prayer,_ “you’re mine, just for _me,_ wanna _taste you_ , always wondered what you’d taste like, already know it’s _so_ , so _sweet_ ,” and,

That’s what _does it,_

Billy's deep voice, about to break into a _prayer,_

Like _gold_ drippin’ offa that wicked tongue,

And Steve cums with a gut-punchin’ kinda sound falling outta his split lips, a moan _all_ wrapped up around a sobbing _keen_ , and Billy _catches_ it, fucks past it with his wicked, pierced tongue, fucks into Steve with brutal, _possessive_ thrusts, fucks him _through_ that gut-punchin' orgasm, and Steve thinks he might fuck him through a second, softer one, _‘cause there’s_ \- so much, _so much fuckin’ -_

“God, the fuckin’ _smell_ of you,” Billy _moans_ , moans like the _stench_ of his cum is some kinda _deliverance_ , and then he catches Steve’s wrist, thumb pressing _hard_ to his palm, and it’s the kinda hold that could steer Steve _anywhere_ , and then Billy’s lifting Steve’s hand to his mouth, _and,_

It’s _covered_ in spunk, spunk that Billy drags his pierced tongue through, gathers up as those blue, _blue_ eyes just, _punch_ through Steve, and Steve’s cock _jumps_ and he _hurts_ , it hurts, but he’s so fuckin’ - _Jesus_ , he’s horny like he’s in _heat_ , and then - _and then_ , Billy sucks his _ring finger_ into his mouth,

And it’s his _left hand,_

 _The ring finger_ on his _left hand,_

And,

_Hargrove never looked so fuckin’ good before it was all over you,_

And,

_Could give it to me for real,_

_Forever,_

_I’d say yes,_

And,

Maybe to anyone else it would be _stupid_ ,

But there’s a scar on Billy’s back,

And there’s a spiked bat under Steve’s bed,

And he knows how Billy sounds when he thinks Steve’s gonna _die,_

And now Steve knows what Billy sounds like when he’s been offered the thing he’s been starvin’ so long for, the thing he’s almost _died_ for, and Steve knows how Billy’s blood looks when it’s runnin’ outta his body in streams,

And this is that _once-in-a-lifetime_ kinda shit,

And,

“You’re gonna look _so_ good in white, tiger,” Steve all but whimpers, and his voice is _shot_ , gravelly, _hoarse_ , and Billy drags his tongue over Steve’s finger when he pulls it outta his mouth, pulls it outta his mouth to put his cum-flavored lips to Steve’s split ones, blood and life, all mixed up together, 

And then Billy’s _shoving_ him down again and Steve’s _rambling_ , rambling in Billy’s ear as he fucks him into the mattress, rambling every sweet thing he can think with his desperate fingers all tangled up in Billy’s golden curls, _shit like,_

“Wanna marry you in the _summer_ , you _glow_ in the summer, did’ya know that?” and,

“Wanna do it at the ocean, on the beach, _always_ wanted to see you at the sea,” and,

“I _love you_ , love you _so much_ , I’m _so stupid,_ I’m sorry I took _so long_ , I’m _sorry,_ tiger, _love you so much_ ,” and,

 _“Fuck,_ ” Billy manages, and he sounds _ragged_ , ripped up, and Steve’s gonna feel this for a _week_ , maybe _two,_ and it’s the _best kinda pain_ , when Billy fucks into him like this, and then Steve all but whines, “ _Billy,_ ” right into his ear and Billy thrusts once, twice, three times -

Bites, _hard,_ into Steve’s throat with a savage, _wrenching_ moan,

And white heat crashes through Steve’s chest, 

_And,_

Billy’s entire body goes so, _so_ soft as he empties himself inside Steve, as he empties out the _fear,_ the _need_ , the _want_ , the _devotion_ , and,

Steve slides his arms around Billy’s neck and Billy noses under his jaw, purrs out a drawling, gold-drippin’, _“Bambi,_ ” as he slowly lowers Steve’s aching thighs with brutal hands gone sweet, gentles him back to the sheets, splays him out, cages him _in,_

And,

Billy thumbs over Steve’s split lip, gazes at him like he’s finally been brought back to life by the thing he was starvin’ for, and Steve hadn’t known he’d been hurtin’ so bad, hadn’t known until he’d taken the fucking jersey, and it seems so small,

But it _isn’t_ ,

And,

“Always thought I’d blurt it out when I had you bleedin’ in my arms,” Billy says then, sliding a hand up under the soft jersey, reekin’ of them both now, and Steve’s heart goes sideways as he brings Billy in, lifts his chin in that pleading kinda way, 

And Billy kisses him, kisses him slow, _deep,_ that toe-curlin’ kinda shit, and,

“You mean it, Cherry-bomb?” and Billy says it against Steve’s cheek, and Steve’s so fuckin’ _gone_ , gooey and _melting_ inside, gone liquid _gold,_ ‘cause that’s what Billy makes outta him, what he drips from his tongue, what he leaves behind with his brutal hands gone soft, 

And,

“You’re gonna look _so_ good in white, tiger,” Steve says, _all_ choked up, _all_ fucked-out, all _stupid_ in love, but it’s _not_ stupid, really, ‘cause this is that _once-in-a-lifetime_ typa shit, and Billy looks at Steve like he’s the _one_ thing those blue eyes have been _searchin’ for_ but kept turnin’ away from ‘cause they couldn’t _ever_ watch him _leave,_

But this is that _once-in-a-lifetime_ shit,

And Billy Hargrove is that _once-in-a-lifetime_ kinda _different,_

And Steve’s heart’s been walkin’ around outside his body for _two years,_

But as Billy splays his hand over his chest, under the - the fuckin’ _jersey,_ reeking of them _both,_ Steve feels his heart settle _right_ back into place, and Billy kisses him in that _slow,_ deep, 

_Once-in-a-lifetime_ kinda way,

And it’s all _gold,_

**Author's Note:**

> songs:  
> gold (stupid love) - illenium, excision, shallows  
> sexxx dreams - lady gaga


End file.
